‘It was bad,’ said the priest. ‘Evil came of it. You need tell me no more. Evil always comes of such liaisons. Where the Church does not bless, the great enemy of souls, like a roaring lion, comes in.’ ‘But there is a good deal more to be told.’ ‘Proceed, madam, I am all attention.’ ‘The milor was lost sight of. The lady appears in London. Socially, she had kept her reputation untouched; she assumed an Italian title of nobility. There are only too many in London, especially among rich parvenues, who throw open their doors to anyone with a foreign title, whether real or assumed.’ ‘So I have heard, madam.’ ‘The Italian lady in this way made many acquaintances and some friendships. Amongst the latter was a lady in weak health, and in great trouble of body and mind. The Italian lady was interested in her; she seemed so sad and sorrowful—almost as sad and sorrowful as herself. The lady had many confidences to make. She was the wife of the rich milor; she was about to present him with a child—a son and heir it was to be hoped. She dreaded the event, she was so weak and sad.’ ‘“What will you?” said the Italian lady to the English one. “That you come and stay with me—that you be my companion and friend. Everything shall be placed in your hands.” The Italian lady was delighted. In the first place it would give her an opportunity to meet her English milor again; perhaps to regain her old authority over him. Alas! she was mistaken.’ ‘And it was quite as well, too,’ said the priest. ‘Her better part was that of a penitent; it was only thus the ministers of the Church could absolve her of her sin.’ ‘Milor had lost all interest in the Italian woman who had given up to him her youth, her love, her innocence, and her life. Milor felt no pleasure at once more recognising her as established in his grand house in town as the friend and companion of his wife.’ ‘Was this madame, this Italian Countess, this friend of yours, very much distressed, was she broken-hearted?’ asked the priest with a quiet smile. ‘Not exactly. Her idea was to take a grand revenge.’ ‘Ah! that is more the way of Italians. But what was that revenge? Did she stab the milor? did she poison his wife?’ ‘Neither the one nor the other. As one of the household—as its mistress as it were for the time being—she saw how she could revenge herself in a better way.’ ‘Revenge! Ah, that is sinful, I fear,’ said the priest. ‘“Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.” Hear David, “O Lord, to whom vengeance belongeth, show Thyself.” Ah, it may be sweet for a time,’ said the priest, as he shook his head. ‘Holy father,’ replied the lady, ‘you are right, as you always are. We women have not men’s heads, we have only hearts, and those hearts often fill us with bad passions.’ ‘I fear that is too true,’ said the priest. ‘But pray proceed with your narrative.’